Strategic
by Winston
Summary: As day ends and night begins, there is a brief window of time in which the two royal sisters meet on equal terms, neither one firmly in complete control. In these times of quiet reflection with one another, their minds and their hearts can truly meet most closely. This is when they see each other the most clearly, here in the trading and in the game they play.


_Note: This site has frustrating problems with formatting and outdated or broken authoring tools, creating several limitations on how this story should most properly be formatted for ease of reading. You can read this story here, but it would be best read on FimFiction -dot- net (a far, far superior site for Pony fics) at: www -dot- fimfiction -dot- net/story/188549/strategic  
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_**Strategic**_

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_"War is death. Hell is pain. Chess is victory."  
_- Computer Chess (2013)

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Atop one of the high towers of the castle, a small table with a board made from sixty-four squares of black and white marble waits for us. This board is set with well carved and highly polished pieces made of the same materials. There are no walls, only thin elegant pillars holding up a conical roof more than a dozen feet overhead. We're open to a spectacular view of the sky all around and Canterlot below, all alight in the orange and rose hues of the sun about to set. My sister and her regalia shine radiantly in the warm light, and she looks more beautiful and majestic than ever. Her mane and tail flow ethereally in the gentle breeze. Certainly the most glorious and worthy of opponents is across from me right now.

Chess is the greatest game of them all in my eyes, the king of games and the game of kings. It suits princesses just as much. My sister and I agree very strongly on that point. There are very few things I love more than the time spent with her as we play.

That, however, is a bit of a funny thing in some ways. Although it takes two to play, chess isn't particularly social. It's far more intellectual instead. The players don't need to speak, not in words. All that matters is the moves they make. That's the way they exchange ideas and set forth the challenges for each other to rise up and overcome. In a good game, they lose themselves in that completely.

The whole of the thing is in the mind. My sister and I never speak once the first move is made - not except the one word sometimes required by the game.

The game begins as dusk nears. It's the transitional period of the sky, with the sun fading but the moon not yet in power and neither of us quite in full control. This is the time we share in a relaxed quiet reflection of what is passing away and what is about to be. This game fits these kinds of times. We're both in a transitioning state, and isn't the transition of the situation the essence of what chess is, after all?

Today it's her turn to move first, so Celestia plays white while I play black.

She opens: pawn to e4.

I respond with pawn to d5, the center counter defense.

Celestia captures on d5. I capture with my queen on d5 in turn, leaving my most powerful piece in the middle of the board. She's a lone silent hero standing tall and defiant in the center of the battlefield, dramatically casting a long shadow in the sinking sun.

A knight moving to c3 threatens to strike down that hero. Moving my queen to c6 draws her back out of reach, but leaves her projecting power from in front of the screen of pawns.

With her own queen to f3, Celestia suddenly becomes uncharacteristically aggressive. It surprises me momentarily. However, her move is logical, given that her more developed knight has gained her time. I know what her move is telling me: that she wants to trade queens.

Such a trade is only in my best interests if it can develop my position to help me make up for Celestia's advantage. Moving my bishop to d7 and waiting for her to take the trade is my bid to do just that.

The tables are turned, now it's Celestia who doesn't immediately accept the trade. Moving her bishop to b5 instead is her counter-bid to raise the stakes and continue buying more time.

It works. I know that she's ahead of me in development, but feeling the pressure focused on my queen and not wanting to risk losing her unequitably, I strike and capture her queen on f3 while I have the opportunity.

Even as the piece slides across the squares, I have misgivings because I know it is not the best of moves. Taking my queen to f6 would perhaps be better for me, if she really wants the trade so badly, but a nagging fear of further mechanations drives me to simply give in and attack. I feel uneasy and I try not to think about the past... The time long, long ago when I had the same thought to strike first, also born of the same sense of fear that the limits of my options were closing in around me and my potential was being stifled.

That "game" ended in bitter tragedy and so many tears for us both.

I find myself pondering how it is that we so often make the same mistakes, even after we think we've changed so much.

It seems my sister is still not ready to complete the trade she began, however. She opts for bishop captures bishop on d7. "Check," she speaks, the one word we say during the game. My knight captures on d7 in reply. White square bishops are thus eliminated. My sister's choice interests me. It's not usually like her to aim to thin the board deliberately.

Her knight capturing my queen on f3 completes the trade. The superiority of the position she's bought with her queen trade is now fully visible, she has two knights developed well forward to move on the center while I have advanced only one knight, and that only as far forward as my starting row of pawns. I move my knight on g to f6. I have catching up to do.

Moving her pawn to d4 further increases my sister's hold on the middle of the board. I castle queen's side to back my knight with a rook, hoping I may find a way to use it in a discovered attack to create pressure on that key position.

Bishop to e3 is played. My pawn moving to e6 opens a lane for my own bishop. Her pawn to a3 prevents me from using that bishop to pin her knight. My knight to b6 is my attempt to develop more in the center. She chooses her move, pawn to b3. With my knight to d5 I attempt to dislodge one of her knights from its position of threatening squares in the center, hoping to open up some space to work in. She accepts the trade, and her knight captures on d5. I take my half of the trade in turn and my pawn captures on d5, of course.

Moving her bishop to g5 pins my remaining knight over my rook. I move a pawn to h6, threatening that bishop and encouraging the trade I see that her move implies she's ready to make. It plays to a stronger situation for me, as I see it. With pieces thinning and the board opening up the way it is, I value bishops more, and I'll take the chance to eliminate her last bishop at the cost of a knight.

A strange sense of unease comes over me at the thought of weighing the value of one against another and choosing who to keep and who to toss aside. I remind myself that it's perfectly right to do so, chess pieces are tools, not people. Unlike the lives of real ponies, the chessboard can be reset and all the lost are restored to life.

It's not the literal aspect that bothers me. It's the metaphor of what chess is. I can't help ascribing something to every piece, and feeling a certain sadness at their loss. Somehow I feel that every one of them taken off the board and away from me will be missed and leave me a little more lonely. I'm being very silly but even knowing so I can't entirely prevent it.

Celestia appears to have things in proper perspective, anyway. She accepts the trade and her bishop captures my knight on f6. My pawn captures that bishop.

Celestia castles on her king's side, finally taking a break from her aggressive piece development and trading to fortify her king. I play my bishop to g7.

Pawn to c3. Pawn to f5. Rook on f to e1. With my rook on h to e8 I set up a showdown. I'm intrigued to know where her strategy is going, and I want to see what she'll do with this. Now it's Celestia who strikes fast and first, and her rook captures my rook on e8. My remaining rook retakes in turn on e8.

I can hardly believe it when Celestia again plays rook to e1. Another trade, taking rooks off the board completely? I'm hesitant about that, but I prepare for it, moving my king to d8.

Celestia insists, and her rook captures on e8. "Check."

I reply the only reasonable way, and my king captures her rook on e8.

Moving her knight to h4 threatens my isolated pawn. Unconcerned, however, I move another of my pawns to b6.

Her knight captures the neglected pawn on f5, of course. I move my king to f8, supporting my now threatened bishop.

The way this game has been going, I should expect what comes next. Celestia captures that bishop on g7 with her knight, making the last trade of minor pieces the game has left. In the only move to respond with, I capture her knight on g7 with my king. All major and minor pieces are now eliminated, only our kings and our pawns are left.

Once again, an advantage she's bought by trading becomes clear - she has one more pawn than I do. I begin to suspect that I should have not just allowed her knight to so easily take my lone pawn on f5. She's surprised me by trading down aggressively through this whole game, and with each trade the value in a single pawn as a proportion of the total amount of material on the board has increased. Now that there are no other pieces left and this game is down to a pawn race, the value in one pawn is more than enough to be the decisive factor.

The endgame is upon us. An admiration for just how Celestia has ushered it in by trading down to it in a way that leaves her with the upper hoof settles over me. Well done, sister. Ruthless, and without pity or sentimentality, and well done.

She moves her pawn to f4. My only real hope is to try to catapault some of my own pawns forward, and so I move my pawn to c5. She moves her king to f2 instead of capturing. I move my king to f6, realizing that it will be necessary to bring my king forward into battle if I'm to clean up her pawns and somehow find a way forward for one of my own. She moves her king to e3. I move my king to f5. She pushes a pawn one space to h3. I move a pawn to h5, anticipating her likely next move to try to force my king back.

She plays king to f3. I move a pawn to f6, behind my king.

Her pawn moves to g4. "Check."

My pawn captures on g4. "Check," I reply back.

Her pawn captures on g4. "Check," she says again.

My king withdraws to g6.

Her king moves to e3. She's shifting her attention to the other side of the board now. This leaves an opportunity I can't miss for clearing the side my king is still on, so as a means to an end I move my pawn to f5.

Predictably, her pawn captures on f5. "Check."

My king captures on f5 in response, as planned.

Celestia advances her pawn to c4, engineering a standoff of four pawns, two of mine and two of hers, side by side. I capture on c4, making my attempt to break open her pawn structure.

My sister returns with another capture on c4. She's moved on from trading major and minor pieces down to trading pawns, adding ever more leverage to her numerical advantage. At this point the course things have to follow is clear. There's not much I can do except to try to catch up, if indeed I ever can, by using the fact that I can leave myself with two pawns side by side versus her pawns that will now all be isolated from each other. My situation is difficult, but maybe I still have hope, I tell myself. Sometimes a little bit of pawn structure is everything. I capture on d4. "Check."

Of course she has no choice but to capture with her king on d4. My king is now freed to capture on f4 and does so. In a fraction of a second, I see with sudden dawning clarity what has happened. The fruition of where her strategy has been headed is in the empty space surrounding my king now that the battle on this side of the board is over. My heart sinks because my king is a few critical spaces too far away from where the final showdown of pawns is about to take place. The game is now a race of kings to assist their pawns in the race to the end of the board, and I'm simply too far behind.

My king stands alone and isolated, much like my queen did at the opening of the game, casting a long shadow in the fiery sunset light. He seems so immensely alone. I reflexively feel empathy and a sense of the familiar.

I of all ponies should.

It's this solitude that will defeat me here, now as it did once before. The feeling of loneliness and the sense of helplessness it created leading me to a desperate path... That thought overcomes me for a moment and fills me with a fleeting but enormous sadness as I remember it all.

The game continues and Celestia moves, marching forward with a pawn to a4. My pawn to a5 in response blocks further progress, for now.

With her pawn to c5 Celestia instigates the final faceoff. I know what's coming, and there's nothing else to do. My pawn captures on c5. "Check," I inform my sister.

Obviously, her king captures on c5. In a hopeless, desperate run, too little far too late, I move my king to e5 attempting to close distance.

Celestia's king moves to b5 and is about to take my last pawn. I continue running with my king to d6.

Her king captures on a5. Now my king is completely alone on the whole board. I can no longer win, only seek some way to force a stalemate if somehow my sister trips up and allows me to. The king seems powerful, able to move and strike in any direction, but all that power comes to nothing when he's alone.

Alone we are nothing. Alone, we can't build anything, and we can't create anything more. All we can do is the opposite, try to position ourselves such that nopony else can move forward either. Our self-pity and misery and the helpless realization of the most primal fear and agony of abandonment is all that's left.

King to c6 is therefore my move. Spite is the only strategy I can play toward now.

Celestia's king moving to a6 prevents me from closing any further on her single remaining pawn. Moving my king to c7 is all I can do.

King to b5. King to b7. Pawn to a5. King to a7. Pawn to a6. King to a8. King to b6. King to b8. I hope beyond hope for my sister to move her pawn to a7, checking my king. If she does I can respond by moving my king to a8, blocking her pawn and forcing her king to either withdraw and leave me able to capture, or move to a6 and result in my king stuck in the corner but not in check, yielding a stalemate game. I wouldn't win, but at least I could console myself with the cold comfort that neither could she.

Once, long ago, I would have told myself that it would be good enough, if only to pretend I could mask my resentment and jealousy with something, anything, that seemed less painful.

My dear sister is anything but prone to fall into such transparent dead ends. She moves her king to a5.

My response, to move my king to a7, is merely wasting time, my only option now. It's not much of an option, at that. Moving her king to b5 still leaves her pawn protected and I can do nothing.

I could move my king to a8 or b8 and try to repeat the cycle of blocking the pawn's advance and dancing with my sister's king ad infinitum, but it's clear that she sees the bid for stalemate and won't buy it. She's intent instead on looking after her pawn and ultimately winning by guiding it to promotion into a queen. All she has to do is wait until the time is right.

I know that she has the patience and the wisdom for that. She won't let us both down by giving up and creating an unwinnable situation neither of us can ever be truly happy in.

Now I see, suddenly, that under the surface of rapid trades that seemed unlike her at first, this game ends in a way that is quintessentially Celestia. She did what had to be done, and now she's chosen the smallest of pieces and nurtures it. Under her guidance it will become something more, something great and powerful - great enough and powerful enough to defeat me. It will be enough to end my rebellion and bring me back to my senses.

That pawn will end the war. One little pawn will make us loving sisters again and bring us back to the harmony we should be in.

In a sudden vision, I no longer see that pawn as just a faceless and nameless thing. It see it as something unique. I see that it's not really the generic white of every other piece, it's purple. It's not blank, it has a special symbol all its own, a six-pointed star orbited by five others that are much smaller. When it reaches the eighth rank of the board, as Celestia has hoped and planned for it, it will grow wings and take flight as a queen.

This pawn seemed so small and so weak, like they all do, but with the right foresight the truth is that it's something with limitless potential. I think silently on this amazing, wondrous thing for a long time.

How have I been lucky enough to know something so special, and to have it bring me back to my real self again when I seemed like I was lost forever?

I feel incomparable gratitude that I was fortunate enough to be defeated when it was exactly what I needed.

My sister says nothing and just smiles kindly as I'm lost in my reverie.

The game is still unresolved and waiting for my move. It would only be an exercise in petulance to draw this out unnecessarily. I therefore resign, considering it better to admit my situation with dignity.

When I do, I find that losing this game has no sting, only a welcome calm. With it over, my sister and I are no longer separated by being on opposite sides of a game board. I'm reminded of coming back to her as I did before. It's a reunion that my heart was crying for longer than I know, if only my mind would have listened.

"I suppose this is why pawns deserve as much care as queens," I speak the first words now that the game is over and we may communicate normally again. "They're destined to become one someday, if somepony is there to help them."

"We should always be concerned about the well-being of even the least of us," Celestia nods. "They may be more than we know. They may change history. Who's to say?"

"Yes. That's why I lost," I hang my head a little. "I neglected that lone pawn, didn't I? Had I looked after it, like you would have... Maybe I would have had a chance. And then at the end of the game, I focused too much on my king - too much on myself, not enough on the pawns. In self-absorption I grew distant from my subjects and the paths best for them. That's where I failed."

"It was a good game, Luna," Celestia smiles at me with kind eyes, then leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. "Let's not read too much into this."

"No. Of course not," I hug her, and she rubs my back comfortingly.

I set the pieces back up for the next game. That's the duty of the loser, at least by the custom the two of us share. While I do that, Celestia turns her attention to the sun. When I finish resetting the board, it's nearly all the way below the horizon and in only a matter of seconds it will be finished setting.

I watch quietly. With a slow release, the last ray of red light fades away, leaving nothing now but the lingering dim glow from below the horizon.

My sister sits next to me and exhales deeply, relaxing at last. "It's up to you now," she says softly.

The sky darkens and turns inky deep blue. Now is the night, now is my time. I face east and close my eyes for a moment, concentrating. The familiar old feeling fills me as my magic surges and pours forth. It comes naturally and easily. Nothing ever felt more right. Even without opening my eyes, I can sense that the moon has risen, peeking above the horizon in shining silvery light and set in the track of motion that will carry it through the night sky.

"It's beautiful," Celestia says to me. "It's a wonderful thing, you know, to be able to look at it without being blinded."

"Yes." I smile to myself, opening my eyes and taking in the sight. "I feel very lucky."

My sister and I sit side by side. She leans against me gently while we admire the soft silver glow of the orb for a few minutes. The air has grown cooler now without the sun in the sky radiating down warmth, but still pleasant, not too cold. I find it refreshing and invigorating.

Finally my sister yawns. "I suppose my time is up and I should be getting rest," she admits. "Goodnight, Luna. I love you."

"I know," I nod to her. "I love you too, Celestia. Have a good night."

She hugs me one more time, briefly, then takes off from the high tower for her bedroom in another part of the castle below.

I stay there on the tower awhile by myself, and think. I see things so much differently than I used to long ago. What I realize now is that day does not oppose night. Our rule is not a struggle of wresting control back and forth, one color does not win and the other loses. They are meant instead to take their turns, each in their own proper times, in a cooperative dance that will last for all eternity.

When I saw things that old way, a contest mentality was inevitable and it colored all my thoughts. Even when I thought of us as on the same side, I thought of us in those terms of conflicted interests. I was powerful, I knew, but somehow I thought that I was still only secondary to her - that she considered me her tool to use. I felt relegated to the night and kept out of the glory and praise of her day, and I feared being cast aside and traded off someday when an advantage would come to her from doing so.

This was never true, it seems so obvious now that I can see rightly. The night is where I'm meant to be, not something she manipulated me into. All she's ever wanted is to share this with me, not control me. I'm something real to her, something important and valued for my own sake and not just what I can be used to gain. I'm not a piece to sacrifice, a queen to trade. It took her a thousand years to make me understand, but at last she proved it to me. I see now the ultimate strategy of my sister - it lies in the fact that I don't feel like a cast-off pawn.

I feel wanted.

I feel loved.

I know now that I always was. After so much trouble and turmoil, my heart is finally quiet and filled with a serene happiness instead.

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_The End_

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